You know when..

... There is a newborn in the house?

* Mum, I don't like that sound very much.
* You can single handedly: turn on the kettle, make a bowl of cornflakes and navigate the morning while breast feeding
* It still hurts to sit.
* It takes speed, endurance and sharp wit.. to put a singlet on a near 5kg wriggling screaming mess.
* You eat like a teenage boy.
* Leaving the house before 2pm requires more organisation than I posses.
* You considered spaghetti on toast for tea,  adults included.
* The same ad drives you bonkers on telly.  Trivargo, I am looking at you.
* You start finding creative ways to stay awake at 2am feeds.  Candy crush, you hurt my feelings.
* You can grocery shop like a Ninja.
* Wondersuits were made purely to make grumpy babies look immensely cuter.
* That slow motion nooooooooooo as your 5 year old announces she is going to play with her sleeping little sister.
* You swaddle, like your morning coffee depends on it.
* You have never had so many conversations about poo in your life.
* You're more disappointed that you have to take your warm dressing gown off.. than the fact that there is poo on it.
* Your local Mcdonalds is in fact, open 24 hours and your husband can indeed get a few hours shut-eye with grizzly-chops in a tiny corolla.  He won the bonus points that day.
* You handover the rights to your boobs to a 2 week old.
* Nap time = DO ALL THE THINGS!
* You sleep on your tummy and almost weep with joy.
* Metamucil, because no new mum needs to strain.
* Wiping crumbs off your child's head.  Sorry, it's mums lunchtime too.
* Online shopping suddenly just got a whole lot more desirable.
* You car is 98% child paraphernalia.  And biscuit crumbs.
* Holding conversations about Minecraft, kinder surprises and why trees are called trees.. on no sleep.
* The love, you just didn't even know you possessed. From tiny little eyelashes to roly-poly little arms. You embrace it fully, knowing now that these moments are all too fleeting. They grow so fast.  Your love for your 5 year old, explodes. They suddenly are so grown up.  You embrace them longer, harder and let them be little.. a while longer.


A star is born.

Tap. Tap. Left, right, left, right. One more tree.  You're nearly there. Tap. Tap. 

Tapping rhythmically on the wet bathroom floor, my heels and toes kept in time with a vision looping in my thoughts.  I was running. Memories of a old favourite running track.  The last kilometre was framed by trees. The white path lead to the finish line. Each tree served as a motivation.

Run, run as fast as you can. One more tree, just to the corner.  

My feet splashed onto the floor, the tapping sending the water from the shower up onto my calves.

The contraction ended.  Two finish lines met.

A drip in my arm, and monitors strapped to my belly.

It was someones birth day.

I ran from the thought of another induction, for 5 long years.  I promised myself, that this time... well it would be different. 39 weeks passed.  Hopes of spontaneous labour, evaporated.  Sparkles was already measuring 2 weeks ahead, and the thought of another traumatic experience birthing an over cooked baby.. made my blood run cold.


I was oddly calm.  I was ready.  I had prepared myself mentally.  If I could cope with the worst, I could cope with anything.  I walked to the birthing suite. The crib waiting neatly at the door, brought it all home.  Today, she was coming.  Today.

I was still, scared.

 I met my midwife, Chris.  We got off to a shaky start, as once again my 14 hour previous labour was dismissed as normal.  It wasn't until my Chris arrived, that we talked some more and found a really good bond.  I will never, ever forget her.  I truly feel, she in some sort of way was sent to protect me.

My waters were broken. Ten shades of pain trying to get the drip in.  I talked though my birth plan with Chris.  Calm.  I just wanted calm.  No hysteria, no meddling, no losing control. Drug free, but I wanted to know my options if I tired.  I asked her advice.  She set me up with the fitball, who would become my BFF over the next few hours.  She opened a window, that I spent many a contraction leaning out of.

I bounced on the fitball.  The conversation flowed.  Chris had been a midwife in many parts of the world.  We had a few laughs.  The pain started to build.  I moved around the room.  The pain took over.  Nothing was imaginable other than, one more contraction closer to meeting her.  I had two puffs of gas.  Hated it.  The pain.  The pain is something else.  I had to try and not work against it.

I am sure lots happened here.  I remembered many moments of self doubt.  Many.  I had my Chris, as my ultimate rock.  Guiding me.  Reminding me, that I can do this.  Contractions built.  They adjusted the drip to a more manageable level.  The midwife Chris, supported me.  It was too late now, she was coming.

I asked for an internal.  I had decided that if I wasn't dilated enough, then I would be calling the pain relief army.


Fuckity Fuck.

It took over.  The absolute desire to push.  I heard them organise for my ob to come back.  It was like I was in the eye of the storm.  I knew a whirlwind was happening around me.  But I was so focused.

They could see her head.  Did I want to look? No.  She had hair? Black hair?

I was getting incredibly tired now.  As much as she inched out, she would inch back in.  My bed was surrounded by people now.  My legs in stirrups.  I counted 4 midwives, Chris and my ob. They looked serious.  They needed her out.  Now. Her heart rate was starting to show signs of stress.  I was effing tired. I didn't even know my legs bent that way.  My ob, for the little lady she is.. was getting me focused and the urgency of getting her out.  She started to get organised for using a vacuum.

Get that away from me.  That hurt like hell.  I was determined.  You all can bugger off with you stabby needles and vacuums... I have this.

I pushed.  Then even when you think you have nothing, you keep pushing. The ring of fire, is fitting.  Oh dear gawd, That pain never leaves you.  Her shoulder got stuck, causing a little tear.  She swooped up onto my chest.  Her skin was covered in white.  Her hair.  Her eyes.  No cries.  No movement.  The midwives were rubbing her.  Out of my sight, the resuscitation machine was wheeled in.  Is she ok?  Is she ok?? They kept rubbing her.

The cry that she released, reassured me.

At 3:49pm a star was born.

Sophie Louise.
Louise is after my sister, as it's her middle name too.

I cannot believe, I did it.  I had the unwavering support of my husband.  A fantastic support of a medical team.

She is here.  It's love.  It's a little sister.  It's a beautiful daughter.

A star was born xxx



I have this niggling feeling, that I am missing something.

Stuff for Sparkles.

I stand in the baby aisles, and I hold suits, towels and promptly put them back on the rack.  I have no idea why. I am organised.  It's what I do.  I like lists, plans and an idea of what/why/when.  I also think, I keep telling myself to relaaaaaax that my brain took that message as: STOP! PUT THAT ROMPER SUIT DOWN.

I am reassured in the fact, that we have stuff in storage.  The likes of prams, car seats and cots.  I ordered some CUTE frames for the nursery.  But call me crazy, they are not a box of nappies.Also. this time around.. there is SO much more choice in shops.  When I shopped for EG, there was usually a few measly baby racks at the back of big w.


Even I can buy baby suits with my Crunchy Nut Cornflakes at Coles.

Soda water, jacket potatoes & pretzels are ruling the roost here.  Insomnia is being nasty.  So are my dicky hips.  I eat rennies because, I like to not have flame throwers down my throat.  I freak out when the kicks stop.  I wish I could take my tummy off for 20 minutes to get stuff done.

I am solo parenting.

Chris has headed off interstate for a few weeks.  A regular income will be awesome, but I feel like I have lost a limb.  I miss him so much.  I look out to the shed, and for the last 6 months or so.. there is has been.

Today, it's jarmie day.  Toys have been set up all over the lounge room.  I am calling it Party Pies for dinner. I taking the day off.  So is EG.  A quiet chilled out day.  She's craving it.  So am I.  I have never, ever seen her so happy to just be.  I have even managed to steal a few moments to read a new book.  Which is lucky.  Because Charlie-puppy ate my last one.

Plus, I'm back on the smoothies.  I am trying to pack them full of goodness, because I do believe.. babies need more than just pretzels.

Loz xx


Blooming Loz.

The thing you forget about pregnancy, alongside my sanity that has been shelved away a fair few years ago.. is the tiredness.  I am so tired, that even the auto correct on my phone has no replacements for the gibberish I am trying to type onto a text message.

Parenting teamed with a healthy dash of pregnancy, is something I would say is: challenging, tiring and a little sprinkling of: please don't destroy things while I have a little cry over here.

I had a few days, where I wondered if I drew pot-luck in the pregnancy lotto.  That's my tongue, firmly in my cheek there.  I spent a good 20 weeks, in a toilet side vigil.  Every single cell in my body hurt.  My eyeballs even felt weird.  Medication didn't really help. So I rode it out. I recently saw severe morning sickness described as: food poisoning that never ends.

Enter stage left: pelvis of doom.  Can we talk friend to friend for a second?  Because I can only explain it as: Hot pokers up my hoo-hah and hip joints that have me thinking I am the Tin Man. My osteo is helping this lovely predicament, and I can only say.. please just make me a cup of tea and warm up my wheat bag.

But inside, calling womb-service every 15 minutes.. Is the Miss Sparkles.

Soda water makes her crazy.  She is quite partial to Beef Strog at the minute.  She likes to join into family conversations by kicking my nether regions quite swiftly.  Heart burn is a new fun addition to this mix and I may be sleeping on a pillow mountain.

EG likes to check my pregnancy app to see what size fruit she is.  She likes to plan what she will do with Sparkles when she is here.  When they are older, they are going out for their own cake & coffee at the cafe I go to with my sister.


It's an epically crazy time.  Some days, as a run my hands through my hair for the 80th time.. I think: How can I do this all again tomorrow?  But some how you do.  You go into survival mode.

Because, my motto is: Bloom, where you are planted.

Even if those blooms are sometimes get trodden on, you can always find some beauty if you look hard enough.  


Face it, or Facebook it.

I liken Facebook, to a dinner party.

To your left, you have someone who is an avalanche of words.  You know their aunties and uncles by name, how many pet fish they have and what they plan to do for dinner next Wednesday.  And you have only known them ten minutes. To your right, is someone who doesn't say boo.  But they play a lot of candy crush.  Sitting across from you, speaks in motivational posters, and tells you daily it's 11:11 on the clock.  Down the end of the table, is a debate over what clean eating is, across from that talks of politics and out of earshot someone stands up and says:


It's a noisy old place.

Photos of sunsets, chia this & that, feet, selfies, kids winning awards, sold stickers, promotions, holidays and general dance of: this is all the feels, facebook.

To be honest, I love it.  Some days, I think we're all part of a huge social experiment.  But I love people watching and putting my amateur psychologist hat on. It is my outlet.  Living in a new town, my social network is limited.  I love popping onto facebook, and having a chat over my cuppa.

I love to know what you are doing.  I do!  Not in a tap tap, it's me at your window stalking kind of way. But your holiday snaps.  What you saw today.  That funny thing your kid just did.  My Mum lives a good 10 hours away, and I love seeing her little snaps of the garden or the dogs causing chaos.

It's a conversation.  It's more than just liking something.  I often worry, I share too much.  That I need to find my own mute button.  I am working on that.  It's not like I see something and go: right, must share this to show everyone WHAT A FABULOUS LIFE I HAVE.  I have never been like that.  I love taking photos.  I like seeing humour in things.  I face 99% of my life, but that 1% when I have sat on the loo floor for 20 minutes with projectile morning sickness and I have an inflamed pubic bone that is as fun as it sounds.. I share.  Because if I am honest, I have my network of people I can turn to.. but in some moments.. you just need a word vomit.

It is a dinner party.  You do need manners. Just look at Sonia Kruger announcing her pregnancy to see the vial words people feel happy to put out there.  The written word is much different to the spoken.  Share your story, respect others.  Share something fun, a photo.. or just say g'day.

Facebook, it is noisy.  It can be fun.  I like my little space.


Ladies Day.

Another time, on another blog.. I used to raise a hand to Friday and give it a triumphant HIGH FIVE! But alas, I started a new blog and Fridays quickly became Ladies Day.

Ah what now? 

Ladies day is where EG & I choose all things that ladies like.  With a 4 year old that quickly makes a list offering: popcorn, movie and please can I have another Filly, mum?  Chris teaches in the city all day, and he doesn't come home until Charlie-puppy is tucked up with his Milo with the newest edition of "Savings Plan for dogs that eat ALL THE THINGS"

So what's been happening around the traps?

Big news on the girl bits/boy bits department.  It's A GIRL! sisters! Chris is mud mapping a Man Cave and I am already concerned over the one bathroom situation we have.  I have firm memories of hallways fights with my sister on the race to the shower.  But, sisters! Can you believe?  EG jumped into the air when we told her, and tells me daily that she's excited to have a sister.  We had a scan at 21 weeks and judging by the rate of kung-fu moves per minute... we do not have a quiet one on our hands.

I feel content in knowing.  So beautiful.  It is truly amazing, this whole carrying a baby business.

These, my friends.  Are Filly's.  They are $3 and sold at woolies.  They are also EG's favourite things.  I bought them a special tin today.  Why?


Charlie ate the leg off a Sylvanian.  Enter stage left: dad.  Furniture maker, business man and Sylvanian crutch maker.

He went on a voyage to Kindergarten in The Me Bag.  A show and tell bag, that EG decided to fill up with the contents of her room.  Negotiations took a few days, but we narrowed it down to 3 favourites. Related: kinder teachers have the patience of saints.

BMX bandit is taking over the street.  Man, she is quite fast. Or, I actually could be quite slow.

22 weeks hey?

How am I? Tired. And bloody sore.  I am seeing an Osteopath, who is being quite mean to my muscles.  I have somehow lost another kilo, and have a lot of punnets of tomatoes in my fridge that tell me that, that craving is done and dusted.

I have had many moments this week, where I have just cried.  I am sore. I am tired.  I am.. well quite pregnant.

And there she is.  Another lady for our ladies day.

Loz xx


I feel I should be knitting.

On the eve of hitting that milestone: 21 weeks.  I have decided on three things:

  1. Watching One Born Every Minute makes me cry, my toes curl and turn to my husband and ask why? WHY? For the love of cheese & biscuits why?  
  2. My osteopath is lovely.  We talk about settling babies, hideous maternity clothes and heartburn. Makes for massaging my pelvic region a little less awkward. I may need to wear a brace and I am compiling that fact to my ongoing list of Loz is ravishing: she has a hobble and needs a brace.
  3. My cravings have subsided. Which is lucky for said husband, because he said he felt like he has eaten a salt lick last week.  
Also to this list, is my lack of house-y like duties.  It says a lot, when your four year old announce that "MUM!THIS WASHING HAS BEEN DRYING HERE FOR THREE DAYS!"

I can't even wallow in self pity on Wednesday nights with a bag o' cheezels and Offspring.  Have you watched The Bachelor? These girls know right?  That even he has no idea what has been planned on their dates?  He was out getting his teeth vaselined and practising handing roses to the mirror.  That when reality really hits, their dates will consist of wilted servo carnations and leaving the loo seat up?

It is clear, from that above paragraph.  I need to turn the telly off and read my Birth Skills book.

Which reminds me.

Sparkles.  Oh the one with the ultra-kicky legs at 4am.  The one that joins in at loon hour and makes me exclaim NO! YOU'RE SUPPOSED to be the second child of calm everyone promised me.  Oh Sparkles.  Have a busy week of appointments next week.  Big scan on Monday, where we hook our eyes to the small screen and exhale when all growing bits are growing in the right places etc.  Where hopefully he/she is feeling like sharing whether he or she is a he or she.

Plans have me orchestrating Operation: Nursery.  Storage has been devised and I am pinning unrealistic ideas on Pinterest.  I spent a good hour of my life thinking about constructing a mobile.  Considering I sewed my embroidery accidentally onto my primary school dress.. I am seeing a trip to made-it in my future.  I feel I should be knitting.  

Instead today, I sat in my car, inhaled a crunchie and congratulated myself for not crying in the really sore bits at the osteo today.  

So. 21 weeks hey Sparkles?  

Sorry, Mum can't knit anything but dodgey scarves and I once tried crochet.  It didn't end well.